


Operation:  To Fool A Hawke

by ClassicTrekker



Category: Airwolf
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 10:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassicTrekker/pseuds/ClassicTrekker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caitlin's had enough of Hawke and their life together...or has she??</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original idea, something that I've been kicking around for about the past month and a half. Bringing back the acting lessons Cait was taking in And a Child Shall Lead to try and explain things. Doesn't start out the way my usual stories do, but hang with it 'till the end, and please, as always, read/review.

“I'm leaving, Hawke.”

  
  


  
  


At first, Stringfellow Hawke thought his wife Caitlin meant she was taking the helicopter to go into town for something—until he saw her standing at the front door with their children. Then Hawke realized what she meant by “leaving.” To hear those words, out of his wife of nearly ten years, Stringfellow Hawke knew immediately that something had to be terribly, _terribly,_ wrong. He just didn't know what—but when he saw Caitlin and their twin daughters, Saoirse Marie and Sally Anne, standing at the door of the cabin, Hawke knew he _had_ to figure it out— _fast._

  
  


  
  


“Caitlin?”

  
  


  
  


“I said, I'm leaving, Hawke,” Caitlin repeated, and Hawke heard her voice shaking, which told him she was fighting a wave of tears. “I—I can't do this anymore. Living with you...it's—it's just getting too hard.” Caitlin _was_ fighting something as she stood there trying to convince String that it was really over—that after almost a decade of marriage, and two children, she was leaving him— _but I can't let him know what I'm really thinking,_ Caitlin said to herself as she glanced down at each of her kids and noticed their impatience. _I know, kids,_ Caitlin tried to tell them with her eyes.

  
  


  
  


“What—what happened, Cait?” String demanded as he crossed the cabin to the front door, hoping to get some explanation from his wife before she and their daughters flew out of his life forever. He hoped Caitlin could hear the concern...the downright _panic_ in his voice as he stopped in front of them.

  
  


  
  


“It's—it's been coming for a long time, String,” Caitlin replied, and Hawke saw the tears in her blue-green eyes. “I—I'm just tired of all of it—the secrecy, Michael, Airwolf...everything.”

  
  


  
  


“And—me? You—you're tired of me, too?”

  
  


  
  


“Yes, Hawke,” she admitted, as she finally allowed a few tears to flow from her eyes. “I'm—I'm tired of your constant brooding—even though you got better after we got married, ever since Dom...” She stopped herself after she mentioned their friend, and the twins' surrogate grandfather, Dominic Santini, who had passed away earlier that year. Even though it had been expected, his death had still hit both String and Caitlin hard.

  
  


  
  


“Cait,” String began, unsure how he was going to handle losing the three most important people in his life, other than Dom, his brother Saint John, and Saint John's son Le. “What are we going to do about—?”

  
  


  
  


“Don't worry about it, String,” Caitlin assured him, her voice still quavering. “I—I'll have my lawyer get in touch with you once I've figured out what we're going to do.” At those words, String felt the tears welling up in his own eyes. _How can this be happening?_ String asked himself. _What have I done...or not done...to make Cait want to leave?_

  
  


  
  


“Cait, if this is about Airwolf, then I'll”—

  
  


  
  


“It's not just Airwolf, String, but that's a big part of it,” she said, noticing that the children were getting anxious. _Hang in there, kids,_ Caitlin's eyes tried to tell her children as she glanced at both of them, one on either side of her. “I'm sick of feeling like we're gonna get blasted out of the sky every time I climb into that machine, or being kidnapped because somebody figures out they can use me as bait to get to you and Airwolf, like Sawyer did. Don't get me wrong—I love flyin' her just as much as you do—I always have. But—there comes a time when I have to think about _me,_ String—and about my kids.”

  
  


  
  


“ _Dam_ _m_ _it, they're my kids, too, Cait!”_ String roared, angrier at Caitlin than he could ever recall being, even after she had accidentally armed a Hellfire missile without first deploying the ADF pod, the first time he took her aboard Airwolf, over ten years ago, to help him rescue Archangel from East Germany. He noticed both his children jump at the tone of his voice, and immediately regretted screaming at their mother.

  
  


  
  


“I—I know, String,” Caitlin replied, trying not to respond to Hawke's anger with her own, “I'm sorry I put it that way. But that's my whole point—do you want these kids— _our kids—_ growing up without one—or, God forbid— _both_ of us, if somethin' ever happened on a mission?”

  
  


  
  


_That_ made Stringfellow Hawke stop and think for a moment. _Have I been ignoring our kids...and my wife...because of Airwolf?_ _And...what if something ever really happened to me...or to Caitlin?? What would happen to the kids??_ _Have I become that selfish, that I put Airwolf over my family??_ He knew that before he and Caitlin had gotten together, Airwolf had been the most important part of his life—other than finding his brother, even though the two had gone hand in hand for years—but he thought things were different now that he was married, and a father. _Guess I was wrong,_ he said to himself sadly.

  
  


  
  


And deep down, String knew Caitlin was right—for all her bulletproof armor, Mach 1-plus speed and fourteen firepower options, Airwolf still had her vulnerabilities. Hawke remembered when he and Michael were flying Airwolf to rescue Dom, back before Caitlin came to them, and someone managed to down Airwolf by hitting her in the tail rotor with a rocket. And later that same mission, a missile had penetrated Airwolf's hull near the EDCC and released a poison gas, that had obviously been intended to knock Hawke and Archangel out. _It_ **did** _knock Michael out, now that I think about it,_ Hawke remembered. _But I was able to go on internal oxygen and save the ship—and us—that time. But—what if something ever happened, and either Caitlin or I—or_ **both** _of us—didn't make it??_

  
  


  
  


“Caitlin, I—I'm sorry,” String began, knowing those words would not erase whatever he'd done—or _hadn't_ done—that had driven her to this point. “I'm sorry for yelling just now, and I—I won't fight whatever you decide to do. If this is what you think is best...then all I can say is—good luck and—goodbye.” Hawke knelt down sadly and hugged both of his children—for all he knew, for the last time. When he straightened up, he saw the tears running down Caitlin's face.

  
  


  
  


“Goodbye, Hawke,” Caitlin said through tears that she had resolved not to fight anymore. She reached out and touched his face one final time, then she and her daughters turned and walked to the dock, where their chopper waited for them. String stood in the doorway, tears flowing down his cheeks, as he watched the helicopter fly away.

  
  


  
  


“Well, kids,” Caitlin said, her tears forgotten as she watched the cabin disappear out of the corner of her eye, “do you think he bought it?” She'd been fighting her true emotions ever since she turned and walked away from the cabin, but she knew that with Hawke's super-hearing, if she had let those emotions out before she started the helicopter, they would have given her intentions away. _No doubt he woulda heard me all the way to the helicopter,_ Caitlin said to herself. Now, in the helicopter and far away from the cabin, she allowed herself a moment to laugh.

  
  


  
  


“I think so, Mommy—you saw him crying, didn't you?” Saoirse Marie asked, then added, “But I don't like that we're doin' this. This seems like a real mean thing to do to Daddy...even knowing why you did it...and everything else.”

  
  


  
  


“Well, Saoirse...I guess you're right. I just...I hope everything works out,” Caitlin replied, and added to herself, _and that String'll forgive me...someday_. She'd considered this plan for days leading up to today, and had spent long hours trying to perfect what she would say—she just hoped she hadn't gone overboard. _The way he screamed at me,_ Caitlin said to herself sadly, _I just might have. String never—_ _ **never**_ _yelled at me like that—not even during that first time I flew in Airwolf._ Caitlin sighed as she flew on, hoping that her decision had been the right one.

  
  


  
  


Back at the cabin, String sat on the front porch, where he and Caitlin had spent so many romantic evenings over the past nine years, wondering where he'd gone wrong with her. _Hell, if Airwolf's the goddamned problem,_ String said to himself, _then first thing tomorrow morning, I'll call Michael and tell him I'll turn her over to him. If that's what I've gotta do to save my family—to save my marriage—then that's what I have to do._

  
  


  
  


“Yeah,” he said to Eagle, his faithful hound, who had come up to stand beside him, and gazed up mournfully at String. Eagle had been a Christmas present from Caitlin three years ago, after Tet had passed away. Caitlin had said that Tet was bugging Dom in Heaven now—of course, Hawke wasn't completely sure he believed in Heaven, or God. _Especially now,_ Hawke said to himself sadly _._ Hawke recognized the expression on the dog's face—it was the same one that Hawke saw on Tet's face when he arrived back at the cabin after Gabrielle had been murdered by Moffet—and Hawke felt his world crashing down on him the same way he'd felt that night. He took one last look into the sky, finally convinced himself that Cait wasn't coming back, and then turned and walked back into the cabin. A thought suddenly crossed Hawke's mind— _Meeting Cait was the best thing that ever happened to me...even though it took me two years to admit it. And I went and screwed it up, like I have so much of my life._

  
  


  
  


Later that afternoon, as he sat in his favorite spot and played his cello, Hawke was surprised as he finished a piece to hear a familiar sound—a helicopter. _Who's coming up here...especially at this time of day on a Sunday?_ Hawke said to himself. He hadn't heard from Saint John all day—actually, he hadn't heard from Saint John since they closed the hangar on Friday—so String supposed it could have been his older brother, but he worried about who else it could be. _And if that_ _ **is**_ _Saint John, how the hell do I explain what's happened to him??_

  
  


  
  


Then another thought struck him. _If that's Michael,_ Hawke said to himself, growing angrier by the minute, _I swear I'll tear him limb from limb. He is the absolute_ **last** _person I want to deal with right now._ _I mean—I'll have to deal with him sooner or later, about Airwolf—just not now, dammit. Especially since it's being involved with him—and Airwolf—that created this mess in the first place._ String had already made a few decisions—he would sell the cabin and everything in it, leave the money for Caitlin and the kids, and become a recluse, even more than he'd been before. He'd turn Airwolf back over to Michael, and totally divorce himself from humanity, since the most important person in his life wanted to divorce him.

  
  


  
  


Hawke thought about the reason he'd pushed Caitlin away for as long as he had—the fear that he was cursed, that anyone he loved, or _might love,_ would die. That was his reason for not admitting the fact that he loved Caitlin—when in fact, had loved her practically since the day he'd met her almost thirteen years ago—he didn't want to lose her, like he'd lost Kelly, his parents, and Gabrielle. _Now I am losing her,_ String said to himself sadly. _And she's gonna be—wherever she's going—with our kids._ Finally, Hawke resigned himself to what was happening—to the fact that Caitlin had decided to leave him, and take their children with her. And he'd have to figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his life—now that the rest of his life would no longer include Caitlin.

  
  


  
  


_Maybe...maybe I could go back to that retreat,_ Hawke said to himself, remembering the religious retreat he'd visited several years ago and wound up rescuing the inhabitants from a man who was using the retreat as a front for his own revolutionary intentions. _It's an idea, anyway,_ Hawke said to himself as he took the cello back to the cabin to put it away. He'd turn Santini Air completely over to Saint John, and let him decide what to do with it. He'd—he stopped his planning when he heard something at the front door—and recognized the person standing there, which caused him to do a double-take, to make sure that who he thought he saw _really was_ who he saw.

  
  


  
  


“Caitlin?”

  
  


  
  


“Hello, Hawke,” she said, and something in her voice sounded different to him. She didn't sound sad, or angry like she had earlier, before she left with his heart, along with his children. She sounded—Hawke didn't know _how_ she sounded, exactly, but something seemed...different to him, although one thing stuck out in his mind. _She called me “Hawke.” She hasn't done that for years,_ Hawke said to himself sadly. _At least not since we've been married._

  
  


  
  


“You forget something...or just decide to come back and kick me while I'm down?” Hawke scoffed at her. Then something struck him. _When they were at the door this morning—I didn't see any bags. No suitcases—nothing. Something's going on here—I just don't know what...and I don't like that._

  
  


  
  


_Ouch. That stung,_ Caitlin said to herself, even though she knew she deserved it, and whatever else Hawke might decide to do or say to her. “No, String,” she replied, stepping through the door into the cabin, “I—I just needed to say a few things to you.”

  
  


  
  


“Go ahead. I'm listening,” he replied, hoping against hope that by listening, he could understand where he'd gone wrong, and maybe—just maybe—figure out a way to put his life—and his family—back together. Then String noticed something— _her wedding ring...she's still wearing it. Why would she still be wearing her wedding ring, if it's really over? Now I know something strange is going on._

  
  


  
  


“String,” Caitlin began hesitantly, “there's no easy way to say this...” String felt his heart fall straight through his feet to the floor of the cabin. “But I—I had to come back here and tell you something.”

  
  


  
  


“Go ahead, Caitlin. Like I said, I'm listening,” String replied, even as he resolved not to lose his temper with Caitlin (he couldn't think of her as his wife anymore—not now) again.

  
  


  
  


“Well,” Caitlin replied, walking closer to him, and stopping when she got within an arm's-length of him, “there's a reason I did what I did this morning, and I thought you needed to know.”

  
  


  
  


“You're right, Caitlin, I do need to know,” String replied, confused. “What—what went so wrong between us?”

  
  


  
  


“Nothing, Hawke,” Caitlin admitted, sighing. _How dense is he?_ She asked herself, then reprimanded herself. _Dumb question, Caity girl. You know how dense Hawke is better'n anybody. Except maybe Dom._

  
  


  
  


“ _Nothing?”_ String repeated, incredulous. “You stand at the door with our kids this morning, tell me you're leaving and that you'll have your lawyer contact me, and you say nothing went wrong between us? Caitlin, just how dumb do you think I am?” Hawke immediately regretted the question. _Um...Something tells me I don't want to know the answer to that,_ String said to himself ruefully.

  
  


  
  


_You really don't want me to answer that, do ya, String?_ Caitlin said to herself as she fought to keep a grin from breaking out across her face. “I—I'm sorry, String...that wasn't what I meant.”

  
  


  
  


String felt his anger building again. “Then what the hell _did_ you mean, Caitlin?” He wasn't exactly sure he _wanted_ to know what Caitlin meant...but then again, he knew he had to ask her.

  
  


  
  


“I meant”—Her eyes grew wide and the grin she'd been trying to suppress ever since Hawke had seen her at the front door finally broke through. “I meant to say— _April Fools,_ Stringfellow Hawke!!” She steeled herself for whatever reaction Hawke might have to being fooled the way he had been. _He might throw me out for real,_ Caitlin admitted to herself. _I hope not—but there's nothin' I can do about it now. If he does, he does...and I can't say I'd blame him if he did. Heck, if he ever pulled somethin' like this on me, after I beat the snot out of him,_ **I'd** _throw_ **him** _out...and it's his cabin._

  
  


  
  


String stared, dumbfounded, at the woman he loved more than anything in the world. _“'APRIL FOOLS'?? What the hell is that supposed to mean??”_ he roared, his anger taking over once again. _Dumb question...I know it's April Fool's Day...aw, dammit._ Hawke said to himself as he realized what had happened.

  
  


  
  


“String,” Caitlin said as she moved closer to him, relieved when she saw he wasn't drawing away from her, “I'm sorry. This whole thing was—was a project from my acting coach. We were given an assignment last week—to play an April Fool's joke on someone important to us. Naturally,” she said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, “I chose to play one on you. After all, you are the most important person in my life,” Caitlin said, hoping fervently that String believed her.

  
  


  
  


For his part, String was remembering how Caitlin had been taking acting classes several years ago—and how convinced Dom had been when she ran lines with him, saying that she was pregnant and had decided to raise her baby alone. _Of course, she wasn't really pregnant,_ String said to himself, _but Dom sure thought she was—just like I thought Cait was really leaving this morning._ He also knew that she'd restarted her classes several weeks ago, after being away from them for nearly ten years, after she and Hawke married and had their children. _She hasn't lost her touch,_ String said to himself. _She got me as good as she got Dom that day._ He was still upset, though, and decided to let Caitlin know it.

  
  


  
  


“And you couldn't think of something else to do?” String demanded, still hurting. “Like sticking a whoopee cushion on my chair in Airwolf, or somethin' like that?” Almost immediately, Hawke felt himself once again regretting his choice of words. _She'd do it, too—stick a whoopee cushion on my chair, that is. Guess I'll have to pay more attention to my seat when I climb into Airwolf from now on,_ Hawke said to himself wryly, _especially next year._

  
  


  
  


_Oh, boy....I may have taken it too far,_ Caitlin said to herself, worriedly, as she looked at her husband. _I know that expression—he's angry. And he's got every right to be._ Aloud she said, “String...I figured doin' something like this would make you angry...and I'm sorry. But my coach said I had to actually run lines—you remember, like I did that time when I ran lines with Dom.” String again found himself recalling what Dom had told him about that incident.

  
  


  
  


“ _If he won't accept his responsibility, then he just doesn't exist for me anymore,” Caitlin had said, tears streaming down her face. “And I don't care what you say!! I'm gonna have this baby, and I'm gonna raise it alone!!!” She'd turned on her heel and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her. When Caitlin opened the door again, she was nervous as to what Dom thought—until he started applauding, and she took a bow, like all good actresses would._ He felt himself drawn back to the present when he heard Caitlin's voice again.

  
  


  
  


“Believe me, String—I didn't want to do it, and I told my coach just that in class last week—but he said we needed to make it somethin' that whoever we played it on would never forget—and I think this qualifies, don't you??” She wanted to give him her best impish grin _—hell, forget that, I want him to take me upstairs and make love to me right now_ —Caitlin said to herself— _but I know I can't...and he won't._ _At least...not yet._

  
  


  
  


“Yeah, Cait,” String replied. Hawke felt his anger already lessening, and he didn't like that—he wanted to hold onto his anger for as long as possible, to express how angry he'd really been as he watched Caitlin and their kids walk out of the cabin this morning, to make Caitlin feel like she'd made _him_ feel earlier that morning, when she'd announced that she was leaving him. _But I can't,_ String said to himself. _Even as angry as she made me...and as frightened as I was...I can't do that to her—or our kids—because, dammit, I still love all of them—especially Caitlin—and I always will, no matter what. And besides,_ String said to himself, _I remember what Dom said before we got married._

  
  


  
  


During the rehearsal dinner, when Dom stood up to give the customary toast, he had said, _“String...Cait...always remember—never go to bed angry. Resolve your problems before they start. And, tomorrow's the first day of the rest of your lives. And every day should be just like tomorrow. And always remember—I love you guys.”_ Hearing Dom's voice in his head again, String felt the last vestiges of his anger draining away, and he promised himself that he wouldn't go to bed tonight angry at Caitlin for what happened.

  
  


  
  


Out loud, String said, “I'd have to say this definitely qualifies. You—you scared me, Caitlin. You had me convinced you were really going to leave.”

  
  


  
  


“Then...would you mind writing that down?” Caitlin asked, knowing she had no right _to_ ask this of him, but knowing she had to. She handed him a sheet of paper with the lines she'd repeated to him that morning, and String noticed the single word at the bottom— _Reactions:_

  
  


  
  


“I guess...I guess that's for me, huh?” Hawke replied, smiling at Caitlin. She noticed the smile and relaxed...just a little. _After all,_ Caitlin said to herself, _String said I scared him...and I know Stringfellow Hawke—he doesn't scare easy._

  
  


  
  


“If you don't mind,” Caitlin replied as Hawke got up and walked over to the dining table. Taking a pen out of his shirt pocket after he sat down, Hawke wrote, _“If the object of this exercise was to scare me half to death, Caitlin Hawke passed with flying colors. When she said she was leaving this morning, and taking our kids with her, I fell for it hook, line and sinker, and I thought my world was coming to an end. Caitlin definitely succeeded in fooling me—she played the part perfectly. Sincerely, Stringfellow Hawke.”_

  
  


  
  


“That good enough?” Hawke asked his wife, who he noticed was standing behind him, and had wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind.

  
  


  
  


“That's perfect. Thanks, String,” Caitlin replied as she released his shoulders, took the paper, and put it into a folder on the other side of the table. Suddenly, she noticed String looking around, confused.

  
  


  
  


“What's wrong, String?” Caitlin asked, noticing his expression.

  
  


  
  


“Where are the kids, Cait?” Hawke asked, when he realized that their daughters had not come into the cabin with her.

  
  


  
  


“Outside, playing with Eagle,” Caitlin replied. “I didn't think they should come in with me, in case things got too heated between us, String,” Caitlin said as she moved to the door. String nodded, knowing that Caitlin's decision had been the right one. _The kids have never seen us seriously fight,_ Hawke said to himself, _and I don't want them to ever have to see that._ Aloud, he said, “Good decision, Cait.”

  
  


  
  


“Come on in, kids!!” she called out. String felt an enormous sense of relief wash over him as his daughters ran to the door, almost knocking him over in their excitement.

  
  


  
  


“Hi, Daddy!!” Both girls squealed as they launched themselves at their father. For his part, String wrapped his arms around both his daughters, again feeling relieved that they, along with Caitlin, weren't leaving his life forever.

  
  


  
  


“Daddy,” Saoirse began hesitantly, “we—we're real sorry about this morning. Mommy told Sally Anne and me that it was somethin' important. I—I wanted to tell you we weren't really gonna leave, Daddy, but Mommy told us not to.” She hoped her father could understand, and wouldn't be too angry.

  
  


  
  


“I—I know, kids,” String replied, holding his daughters close to him. “I know. And,” Hawke said, pulling back to look at his kids, then looking back over his shoulder at his wife behind him, “I'm sorry I yelled at your mommy this morning.”

  
  


  
  


“Now,” Caitlin said, smiling at her children and her husband, “I think it's time you two go and get ready for dinner. Okay?”

  
  


  
  


“Okay!” Sally Anne shouted as she and her sister scampered down the hall to their rooms. They spent dinner discussing Hawke's reaction to what had occurred that morning, and after awhile, even String had been able to see the humor in the situation—something that was not lost on his wife or children—especially after Sally Anne said, “Daddy, your eyes were _THIS BIG!!”_ She held her hands over her eyes in the shape of two large circles, which caused everyone at the table to laugh, including String.

  
  


  
  


“I just bet they were, Sally Anne,” String said with a smile. “I was pretty scared this morning, you know.”

  
  


  
  


“We know, Daddy,” Sally Anne replied.

  
  


  
  


“Face it, String, you fell for it—hook, line, and sinker!!” Cait told her husband later as they did the dishes—together. She grinned wickedly and splashed a little of the water on his shirt. Caitlin had started the dishes, as another way of apologizing to him over the whole April Fool's prank, and how much she knew she had hurt him, but String had quickly stepped in to help—and wouldn't take “No” for an answer.

  
  


  
  


“Yeah, I did,” String admitted, shaking his head as he returned the favor, splashing some of the water onto Caitlin's shirt. “You were very convincing, Caitlin—your coach would have been very impressed. Even though you've been away from those classes for so long, you've still got it, Cait...whatever the hell 'it' is. You got me, Cait—you got me _good_ ,” String admitted.

  
  


  
  


“Thanks, String,” Caitlin replied honestly. “I—I really hated to do that...you—you know that, right?” She lay the dishes aside and moved over to String, and slipped her arms around his neck.

  
  


  
  


“I know now, Cait,” String replied, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her close to him. “I know now,” he murmured again, in that throaty tone that he knew Caitlin loved, just before he took her lips with his. The kiss began gently, but it didn't take long for the passion to begin to build, until Saoirse Marie's voice rang in their ears and broke the mood. “ _Eww._ Don't look, Sally Anne—'cause they're _kissing!!”_

  
  


  
  


“Guess that means Mommy and Daddy aren't mad at each other anymore, huh?” Sally Anne giggled, as String and Caitlin separated and each grabbed one of their children.

  
  


  
  


“No, kids, Mommy's not mad at Daddy,” String assured their children. “And Mommy never _was_ mad at Daddy—so even though I yelled this morning, Daddy's not mad at Mommy. Nobody's mad, and nobody's goin' anywhere. Okay?”

  
  


  
  


“Okay, Daddy!” Both girls squealed happily.

  
  


  
  


Later that evening, after they finished the dishes and put their daughters to bed, Caitlin and String headed towards the sleeping loft. String patiently walked next to Caitlin as they went upstairs, and he tried to figure out the best way to respond to what Caitlin had done that morning. _I'm not angry anymore,_ String said to himself, _but I've gotta make sure this never happens again._ When they reached the loft, Caitlin moved towards String with her best come-hither expression, and she hoped that he'd been able to forgive her for what she'd done, since she'd explained it had all been part of her acting classes.

  
  


  
  


“Caitlin,” Hawke said, gently taking hold of her hands before she could slide her arms around his neck, “I know I said I wasn't mad at you—and I'm not—but before we go any further, I just need to hear five words from you.”

  
  


  
  


“Um...” Caitlin replied, not sure which words her husband meant.

  
  


  
  


“I'll—never—do—this—again,” String replied, gazing deeply into her blue-green eyes as he released her hands.

  
  


  
  


Smiling, Caitlin returned his gaze and, as she took his face in her hands, replied, “I'll—never—leave—you—String.” _Okay, it wasn't exactly what he said...but I mean the same thing,_ Caitlin said to herself as she looked into Hawke's eyes, unsure what those ice-blue orbs were telling her.

  
  


  
  


“That _wasn't_ what I said, Caitlin,” String replied, his tone of voice and facial expression both making her nervous. Then, he curled his upper lip into the boyish grin he knew she loved and said, “but I'll take it.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, and felt Caitlin relax at his words.

  
  


  
  


“And— _me?_ What about me, String??” She asked as she slid her arms around his neck, finally grinning impishly at him as she did so.

  
  


  
  


“If that's what you want, Caitlin,” String replied as he scooped her up in his arms to lay her gently on the bed, but as soon as she felt the bed underneath her, Caitlin interrupted him by pulling him down to her in a passionate kiss.

  
  


  
  


When she released him, Caitlin whispered, “I want _you_ , Stringfellow Hawke. Always, and forever— _you._ I'll never get tired of you, Stringfellow Hawke. _Never._ I'll never leave you...and I love you, String,” Caitlin said, hoping her eyes could convey the sincerity in her words.

  
  


  
  


“That's good to know, Caitlin,” Hawke said as he helped her to sit up, then added, “Because I love you, too—and I'll never get tired of you, either. So like it or not, you're stuck with me—because I'll never leave you, either, Caitlin,” he said, grinning.

  
  


  
  


“H mm...I'm stuck with you, huh?” Caitlin asked, moving closer to her husband. “I love the sound of that—and I love you, Stringfellow Hawke,” she said, leaning her forehead against Hawke's and smiling at him, relieved when he returned her smile with one of his own. “So I guess you're stuck with me, too.”

  
  


“Well, I can't think of any person I'd rather be stuck with, Caitlin Hawke,” Hawke said, earning a playful elbow in the ribs from Caitlin. Then, Caitlin noticed Hawke's face turn serious, which concerned her until she heard what her husband had to say.

  
  


  
  


“Cait—I'm sorry I yelled at you like that this morning,” String admitted. “And again downstairs, just now. I was just—so angry...and so hurt—and most of all, scared. I really thought you were”—He felt his voice crack and couldn't finish his sentence, but Caitlin knew what he was thinking.

  
  


  
  


“I know, String,” Caitlin replied. “And I'm really sorry I did this—I never... _never_ meant to scare you like that.” She considered his reaction when he had recognized her at the front door earlier in the evening. _The last time I saw his face like that was at the Horn compound, when he thought he'd killed Dom. And I don't ever want to see his face like that again._ _ **EVER**_ _._ “And I'll _never...EVER_ do that again, String. I—I hope you believe that,” Caitlin said, even as she thought to herself, _but I won't blame you if you don't believe me._

  
  


  
  


“I know, Cait,” Hawke answered his wife. “I know.” Then he added, “And I—I believe you, Caitlin.” He saw Caitlin's eyes light up, and figured he knew what was on her mind. A moment later, Caitlin's words confirmed his suspicions.

  
  


  
  


“String? You mind if I ask a really stupid question?”

  
  


  
  


“Go ahead.” _Even though I think I know what she's gonna ask me,_ Hawke said to himself, stifling a grin.

  
  


  
  


“Why are we still dressed?”

  
  


  
  


_I knew it,_ String said to himself. “Good point,” String replied with a laugh as he moved to remedy the situation, even as Caitlin reached for him, with a similar intent shining in her eyes. Finally, Caitlin looked into her husband's eyes and shyly whispered, “String, please...make love to me.”

  
  


  
  


Hawke merely smiled and leaned into her, gently rotating them so she was on her back, and he felt tears coming into his eyes as he marveled at how beautiful she looked...and how he'd fallen for her prank, and doubted how much she loved him. As he hovered over her, Hawke fought back his emotions and whispered, “Caitlin, don't ever... _ever_...doubt that you have the right to ask me to make love to you.” Unable to speak due to the growing lump in her throat, Caitlin merely nodded as she felt Hawke move inside her.

  
  


  
  


Later, still wrapped in each other's arms, String thought about what had happened that morning. _Even though it was an April Fool's prank...and a class project...there was a point to what she did._ Finally, he felt like he could construct a complete sentence, but when he spoke, he uttered only a single word. “Cait?”

  
  


  
  


“H mm?” Caitlin's brain was still wrapped in the afterglow of the recently concluded activities, and she didn't trust her voice enough to say much more than that.

  
  


  
  


“Listen, Caitlin...I know this morning was...a class assignment...but, I do think there's a bigger issue here. Do—do you want me to give up flying Airwolf?”

  
  


  
  


“ _WHAT?”_ Caitlin demanded, suddenly sitting up, her mind snapped back to full alertness when she heard the last part of String's question—“ _give up flying Airwolf?”_ “You—you'd do that—you'd give up flying Airwolf, for me?”

  
  


  
  


“I was saying that...I know, now, that what you did this morning was for class—but yes, I'd give up Airwolf—for _us,_ Cait,” String replied honestly. “Look, you said it this morning—there comes a time when we've gotta think about the kids. I know what it's like growing up without parents, and I—I don't want them to lose either one of us.”

  
  


  
  


“String,” Caitlin said, gliding her fingertips across his chest, “We're safer in Airwolf than just about anyplace else I know. Our Lady's never let us down yet, has she?” Caitlin grinned at her husband.

  
  


  
  


String sighed resignedly. “No, she hasn't, Caitlin. But what if”— String was suddenly cut off when Caitlin kissed him again, pressing her body against his. Before things got completely out of control, though, String separated them and said, “Okay, Cait, you made your point. I won't turn Airwolf over to Michael. Okay?”

  
  


  
  


“Okay, String,” Caitlin replied. “Besides,” she continued, “I woulda been real mad if you had given the Lady up. I told you this morning—I love flyin' her just as much as you do.” Then her face took on a decidedly worried expression as a thought ran through her mind. _Aw, no. He didn't....did he??_ “Um...String...when you said you'd give up Airwolf”—She stopped herself before she could voice the question on her mind. _It'd be just like String to say somethin' like that and be pulling an April Fool's joke on me,_ she said to herself, then added, _and I'd deserve it, too. I probably deserve a lot worse, actually, after what I did, makin' him think I didn't love him anymore, and all that._

  
  


  
  


“No, Cait,” String replied, having anticipated her unspoken question, “that wasn't an April Fool's prank. I meant what I said—if you wanted me to, I'd give Airwolf up. Our marriage is more important than Airwolf—more important than _anything—_ to me. Besides, there's no reason for us to keep flyin' her, since Saint John's home and the deal no longer applies. Not to mention the fact that—while you were gone today, I had some time to think about something Michael asked me several years ago.”

  
  


  
  


“What was that, String?” Caitlin asked.

  
  


  
  


“It was after Dr. Winchester developed that simulator,” Hawke said, “and Michael was trying to get me to sign off on it. I remember he asked me, 'What happens ten years from now, when your flying skills begin to erode?'” He shook his head and then turned to his wife. “Well....what _does_ happen? I mean...it's been over ten years since Michael asked me that, and I don't want to get one...or _both_ of us...killed because my flying skills aren't what they used to be.”

  
  


  
  


“Forget it, String,” Caitlin insisted. “You're—I mean, _we're_ not giving Airwolf up. Besides,” she said, “as far as I'm concerned, your flying skills are still top-notch. I wouldn't keep flying with you if I didn't trust you with my life, just like you trust me with yours. So—now that that's settled, I'll say it again—we _are not_ turning Airwolf over to the FIRM. You understand me??” Her voice had turned colder than Hawke recalled hearing it in a long time, even at its worst that morning, but he saw the spark of laughter in her hazel eyes.

  
  


  
  


“Yes, dear,” String replied, shaking his head.

  
  


  
  


“Good,” Caitlin replied, grinning impishly at him. “I'm glad we understand each other.” She sighed with relief at String's smile as she sank back into his arms.

  
  


  
  


“Besides,” String said, “Even if we gave her up, I'd probably still have to help Michael train a new pilot—and you'd be training a new backseater, and the FIRM doesn't have that simulator anymore, so”—Caitlin cut him off the best way she knew how, with a deep and passionate kiss.

  
  


  
  


“String,” she said breathily after she let him go, “I thought we understood each other—that we're not giving up Airwolf.”

  
  


  
  


“Okay, Caitlin,” Hawke replied, but his mind had already shifted back to the events of the morning, when he thought Caitlin was leaving him. _I certainly hope we never go through this morning again,_ Hawke said to himself. Caitlin caught the worry in his expression, and guessed what he was thinking.

  
  


  
  


“Don't worry, String. I said it before and I'll say it again—I'll _never_ play another April Fool's joke like that on you again. I _promise._ ” He read the expression in her eyes, and knew she meant what she'd told him. “Now,” she continued, her eyes taking on a decidedly mischievous gleam as she slipped her arms around him, “I don't want to talk about Airwolf—or this morning, or anything else—tonight. Okay?” Her impish grin spoke volumes to her husband.

  
  


  
  


“Okay, Caitlin,” Hawke replied, curling his lip into the boyish grin he reserved for his wife. “No more talking.”

  
  


  
  


That Friday, Caitlin turned her paper in to Mr. Conrad, who read it over and commented, “Well, Mrs. Hawke”—but just like that, he stopped, and asked, “You _are_ still married, I take it??”

  
  


  
  


“Yes, Mr. Conrad,” Caitlin said. “It was touch and go for a bit, just like I figured it'd be, but String finally saw the humor in what I did. I—I just hope I don't have to ever do that again.”

  
  


  
  


“I'll keep that in mind, Mrs. Hawke,” Mr. Conrad told her, then told the class that their grades for the assignment would be available in a week's time.

  
  


  
  


When they were back home, after Hawke picked Caitlin up from class that day, she had something that she had to ask him. “String,” Caitlin said, anxiously, “how come you forgave me so quick? I...I figured you'd be mad at me for at least a week after that little stunt of mine. Not that I don't appreciate your forgiving me so quick...I'm just...confused.”

  
  


  
  


String just smiled at her and said, “Cait...once I'd calmed down and thought— _really_ thought—about what you did, I realized it'd be stupid for me to stay angry at you. Besides,” he said, “we promised each other when we got married that no matter what, we'd never go to bed angry, didn't we?”

  
  


  
  


Caitlin smiled as she remembered him saying that to her the day they got married. “Yeah,” she said, looking up at him and remembering what made her fall in love with Stringfellow Hawke in the first place— _besides his good looks, that is,_ Caitlin said to herself.

  
  


  
  


“Not to mention the fact that Dom always taught me and Sinj never to hold grudges—at _anyone,_ especially people we love,” String said, and Caitlin remembered Dom saying that to her, too. “So it was a lot easier than I thought it would be for me to forgive what you did,” String finished, and pulled her close to him. She relaxed in his arms, wondering yet again just what she'd done to deserve this man—and thanking God for whatever it was.

  
  


  
  


Finally, String said, “Cait...I realized something else while you were gone that day—meeting you...was the best thing that ever happened to me...even though I didn't realize it until almost two years later.” He glanced down at his wife and wasn't in the least surprised to see her beautiful blue-green eyes filling with tears.

  
  


  
  


“Thanks, String,” Caitlin replied. “I...I needed to hear that.” Without another word, she pulled his head down to hers, and claimed his lips with her own.

  
  


  
  


**One Week Later...**

  
  


  
  


“Did you get your grade on that...assignment, Caitlin?” String asked his wife as they drove back to the hangar, after String picked her up from her acting class on Friday afternoon.

  
  


  
  


“See for yourself, String,” Caitlin said as they parked the Santini Air jeep. She handed him a paper with a large red “A+” circled at the top.

  
  


  
  


“Congratulations, Cait,” String said with a smile, leaning over to kiss his wife. “That makes everything worth it—wouldn't you say??”

  
  


  
  


“Yeah, String,” Caitlin said as they got out of the Jeep and walked arm-in-arm over to the hangar, where Saint John waited for them. Saint John smiled at Cait and said, “Guess you got a good grade, huh?”

  
  


  
  


“Top of the class,” Caitlin replied, beaming. “My coach said he wished he could've seen the look on String's face when I told him I was leaving.”

  
  


  
  


“Heck, Caitlin, _I_ wish I could've seen String's face when you said that,” Saint John said with a laugh as he hugged her, then his brother. “H mm...on second thought, maybe I don't. I'd guess String was pretty angry that day.”

  
  


  
  


“And you'd guess _right,_ ” String said. “Although when the helicopter left, I was more sad than anything—but when she came back that afternoon, I was angry.”

  
  


  
  


“Well, it's over now,” Saint John said, smiling. “I just hope there aren't going to be any more assignments like that in your future, Cait.”

  
  


  
  


Looking at her husband, Caitlin said, “I hope so, too, Sinj. I'm going to be having a talk with my acting coach about that next week, 'cause that is _not_ something I want to go through again.” They said their good-byes to Saint John, then rounded up their children to head home.

  
  


  
  


When they arrived back at the cabin, String set about making dinner while Caitlin went to see what her daughters were doing. When she came back, Caitlin noticed the aroma of steaks grilling outside.

  
  


  
  


“What's the deal, String?” Caitlin asked, surprised. “You only do this when it's my birthday...or after we've fought about something.”

  
  


  
  


“Consider this congratulations, Cait,” String said with a smile. “Congratulations on being top of the class on your assignment.”

  
  


  
  


“Gee, thanks, String,” Caitlin said, blushing.

  
  


  
  


“And,” String said with a familiar grin, “there'll be a— _special_ reward later.” His tone of voice when he said “ _special,”_ coupled with the look in his eyes, left no doubt in Caitlin's mind what the “reward” would be.

  
  


  
  


“M mm,” Caitlin said as she moved closer to him, “I'm _definitely_ lookin' forward to that.” She wrapped her arms around Hawke's neck and pulled him down for a deep and loving kiss.

  
  


  
  


“I kinda thought you would,” String said after Cait released him.

  
  


  
  


Their daughters noticed what String had done when they sat down to dinner, and String said, “Kids, your mommy has some good news.”

  
  


  
  


“Well, girls,” Caitlin said, smiling, “I was graded top of my class on my assignment from last week.”

  
  


  
  


“Yay!!” Sally Anne and Saoirse Marie both shouted, clapping their hands for their mother. “Congratulations, Mommy!!” they both shouted, jumping out of their chairs to run over and give Caitlin hugs.

  
  


  
  


“Mommy, promise me and Sally Anne somethin',” Saoirse Marie said.

  
  


  
  


“Oh—kay,” Caitlin said, not exactly sure what she was being asked to promise her kids.

  
  


  
  


“Promise us that you'll never play a joke on Daddy like you did last Sunday, ever again!” Saoirse demanded.

  
  


  
  


“I promise,” Caitlin replied, smiling at both her children. “In fact,” she continued, linking her pinky finger first with Saoirse Marie's, then with Sally Anne's, “I'll pinky swear it.”

  
  


  
  


“Wow,” Saoirse said, “you must _really mean it!_ ”

  
  


  
  


“Yeah, Saoirse,” Caitlin said as she kissed her daughters, “I really mean it. No more scaring Daddy...or you two...ever again.”

  
  


  
  


“Good!” Saoirse Marie stated emphatically as she and Sally Anne both kissed their mother.

  
  


  
  


That night, String and Caitlin once again told their daughters the story of how they met and fell in love—they hadn't told that story for a while, but String thought it would be a good idea to tell it tonight, given the circumstances, and the children didn't seem to mind.

  
  


  
  


“Well, String,” Caitlin said as they headed upstairs for the evening, “I dunno about you, but I'm glad this whole mess is over—that we're still together, and that you still love me. I have to confess something, String—I was worried sick about comin' back the other day...I really thought you might throw me out for real.” Hawke saw the tears welling up in Caitlin's eyes and quickly embraced her.

  
  


  
  


“Cait,” String murmured, “you know I'll never stop loving you.” He locked eyes with her and repeated, “Never. I will always love you, Caitlin. In fact,” String said with a smile, “I'll pinky-swear it.” He linked his pinky finger with hers as Caitlin smiled.

  
  


  
  


“Wow!” Caitlin exclaimed, “You must _really mean it!!”_ String smiled, remembering what Saoirse Marie had said during dinner, and without any hesitation, Hawke pulled Caitlin closer to him and kissed her again, pouring every ounce of love he had for her into it, and he felt her returning his emotions with equal passion. When he separated them, Hawke said, “Yeah, Caitlin—I _really mean it._ I will always love you.”

  
  


  
  


“And I'll always love you, String,” Caitlin said as she relaxed in her husband's warm embrace.

  
  


  
  


“But I can understand why you might have felt the way you did,” String said, “and I apologize again for the way I yelled at you...and at the kids.”

  
  


  
  


“Thank you, String,” Caitlin said, relieved. “But, just so know you—I don't blame you for bein' angry with me.”

  
  


  
  


“I know, Cait,” String replied. “I know.” He pulled her to him and kissed her again, even more passionately than before.

  
  


  
  


Finally, String said, “Now then—I believe I promised you a... _special_ reward tonight, didn't I?” Caitlin grinned as his hands moved to the buttons on her blouse.

  
  


  
  


“Why yes, String,” Caitlin said in her most alluring Southern drawl, her eyes darkening with the feelings she felt rushing through her, “I believe you did.” They moved closer to one another, both shedding clothing as they did, until their bodies finally touched, and when their lips met again, there was no more time—or ability—for either one to speak.


	2. Chap. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The voices won't shut up...so I'm letting them out to play again. This chapter will be written from Caitlin's POV, picking up after she left the cabin, and said “I just hope everything works out” to Saoirse Marie. References are made to my Troubled Times storyline.

“ _I just hope everything works out,”_ I said to Saoirse Marie as we flew away from the cabin after I told my husband, Stringfellow Hawke, that after nearly ten years of marriage, and our twin daughters, I was leavin' him. Except for one small detail—I wasn't _really_ leavin' him, even though I'd sure made him think I was. It all stemmed from an assignment I'd gotten from Mr. Conrad, my acting coach, a week previously. I'd started takin' those acting classes again because, even though I love flying, I know it's not gonna last forever, and I'm gonna need somethin' to do when it finally happens that I don't want to fly anymore—and being an actress sounds like fun. I've had little roles before, like the first time Hawke ever kissed me, but I kinda want somethin'... _more,_ if that makes any sense. Or at least, somethin' to occupy my time when my flying days are done...and my kids are grown. As we flew, I felt my mind wandering back to where this all started, in Mr. Conrad's acting class on Friday.

  
  


  
  


“ _So, your assignment this week will be to play an April Fools' joke on someone very important to you,” Mr. Conrad was saying to the class. “There are a few requirements for this assignment, and they're listed on the paper that I've handed out to you.”_ I glanced down at the sheet of paper that had been handed to me, and read over the list of requirements: _Running lines...like that time I did with Dom when I had him convinced I was pregnant...no big surprise there. Play the joke or prank on someone very important to your life—like a family member or very close friend. No big surprise there, either. And I know the perfect person to play it on._ Then, Mr. Conrad spoke up again.

  
  


  
  


“One other thing, class,” he was saying, “whatever you do, you need to make sure that whoever you play this prank on will _never_ forget it.” _That_ made me nervous—I'd already decided I'd be pranking my husband—he is, after all, the most important person in my life—but I also know two things about Stringfellow Hawke. Number one, I know his temper—after all, I've been on the wrong side of it a couple of times, and that is _not_ a place I like being—and number two, I know he has a _very_ quirky sense of humor. Oh, it's _there—_ and I've seen it on more than one occasion—but I just don't know how he's gonna react when I pull this little prank on him. Of course, I've gotta figure out what that prank's gonna _be,_ first of all.

  
  


  
  


All of a sudden, it hit me. What would have the biggest effect on Hawke? _Simple. Make him think I'm leavin' him...and takin' our kids with me. Now...I_ **am** _worried, though. Yeah, this is probably a prank he'd never forget...but the question is—what_ **else** _might he do about it??_

  
  


  
  


When I told Mr. Conrad about my idea, his reaction was...surprising, to say the least.

  
  


  
  


“ _This isn't exactly what I had in mind, Mrs. Hawke,”_ I remembered Mr. Conrad saying. _“Are you really sure you want to make your husband think you're divorcing him?? After all, the assignment was an April Fools' **joke...** and I hardly think this qualifies.” _

  
  


  
  


“ _You're right, Mr. Conrad,”_ I said to him, _“And I'll be perfectly honest with you—I don't want to do this assignment.”_

  
  


  
  


“ _Well, Mrs. Hawke,” Mr. Conrad said, “You're perfectly free to decline to fulfill the assignment...with the corresponding effect on your grade in my class, of course.”_ That got my attention.

  
  


  
  


“ _No, Mr. Conrad,” I said, “I don't want to do anything that's going to hurt my grade in your class—and I wish there was some other way to do this...but you don't know String like I do...if I've gotta make this prank something he's never gonna forget, then it's gotta be big...and I can't think of anything bigger than this.”_

  
  


  
  


“ _Well, Mrs. Hawke,”_ Mr. Conrad said, _“and I certainly hope you still_ **are** _Mrs. Hawke when this is over with—if I've learned one thing about you since you started in this class, it's that once you've made up your mind about something, it's nigh onto impossible to change it. So, all I'm going to say is—good luck—because I think you're going to_ **need it.** _”_

  
  


  
  


_You have no idea,_ I said to myself as I began preparing what I'd say to my husband, to try to convince him that our marriage was really over.

  
  


  
  


So I stood there earlier this morning, with our kids at my side, and told String that, after almost ten years of marriage, I was leavin' him...and as I'd expected, he was angry. I stuck to the script I'd written out after class on Friday, though, telling String I was sick of feeling like my life was in danger every time I climbed in Airwolf (which was fib number one), and that I was sick of bein' kidnapped and used for bait every time somebody wanted to get to Hawke and Airwolf—which I guessed was true enough—but I added that I was tired of Hawke brooding all the time (which was fib number two.) Yeah, he still broods occasionally, especially right after Dom passed away a couple of years ago, but he's gotten so much better since we've been married, and become parents. I decided a long time ago, before we got married, that meeting me was probably the best thing to happen to String, even though he refused to acknowledge it for so long. I know for a fact that meeting him, even under the circumstances that it happened, was the best thing that ever happened to me, no question about it. Heck, if I hadn't met him, I'd probably be _dead—_ either because of Bogan and his boys, or I would have died when the plane I was on tryin' to get home for Erin's wedding got hijacked _—_ so, yeah, I think meeting Stringfellow Hawke qualifies as the best thing that ever happened to me. And, in my not so humble opinion, meeting me was the best thing that ever happened to Stringfellow Hawke—even if it did take that stubborn mule almost two years to realize it.

  
  


  
  


I saw the tears in String's eyes when I said, _“Goodbye, Hawke,”_ and turned with our kids to walk down the dock to get into the helicopter, and I felt myself wishing I hadn't decided to do this. _I shoulda done somethin' simpler,_ I remembered thinking to myself, _like putting a whoopee cushion on his chair in Airwolf, or somethin'._ All the same, I gotta admit somethin'—I was biting my tongue all the way to the helicopter, 'cause I was so ready to bust out laughing. _I can't believe it,_ I said to myself as I started up the helicopter and lifted off the dock...the same dock where we took our wedding vows... _but he bought it. He bought it hook, line, and sinker. At least...I think he did._ I finally asked the kids if they thought their daddy had bought what I'd done, and Saoirse Marie said she thought so, but thought that what I was doin' to String was really mean...which, in all honesty, it was. _I'll be lucky if he doesn't throw me out—for real—when this is all over,_ I said to myself. I've gotta admit, when he screamed, _“Dammit, they're my kids, too, Cait!!”_ I was more frightened of Stringfellow Hawke than I'd ever been—even that first time I flew in Airwolf with him, and almost blew us all to Kingdom Come when I accidentally armed a Hellfire missile without deploying the ADF pods. I mean, in the time I've known Hawke, I've been kidnapped, shot at, almost shot _down,_ and almost killed numerous times—but I've never felt fear the way I did when String screamed at me like that. I really didn't know what String was gonna do—and even though I'm a black belt in karate, seeing my husband, the man I love more than anything in this world, _that angry_ at me scared me half to death. I didn't know if he'd take his anger out on me...or our kids...and that, quite frankly, terrified me. He calmed down quick, though, and apologized for yelling at us...which, given the circumstances, was about all I could expect him to do.

  
  


  
  


By the time I'd landed at Santini Air, I was really having serious second thoughts about what I'd just done. _Little late,_ I said to myself, _but I suppose hindsight is 20-20._ I dunno why I headed to the hangar—it was the weekend, after all, and the hangar was closed until Monday—but when I glanced at the fuel gauge, I knew I'd need to refuel the helicopter at some point—if I decided I had the guts to go home and face my husband, after what I'd done to him.

  
  


  
  


I could only imagine what was goin' through String's mind right at the moment—and none of what I was imagining was any good. _He's probably tryin' to figure out what he's gonna do with the rest of his life, if I know him,_ I said to myself, and I couldn't blame him. _Especially since he's figuring that the rest of his life now won't include me._ Then, I had a horrible thought. _When we left this mornin', we didn't take any of our luggage with us...to make it look like we were goin' somewhere. I wonder..._ I worried that the absence of any bags would tip String off to the fact that this wasn't for real, but then my mind rationalized how I could explain it— _I made the decision and wanted to go before Hawke could convince me to stay...so I didn't take time to pack. I'd planned on comin' back for our things later._ It actually sounded like it made sense to me when I turned it over in my mind...so I hoped, when the time came and I went home to face my husband, that he'd see it the same way.

  
  


  
  


_String's probably hurtin' more right now than he ever has,_ I said to myself. I mean, I know all the stories about how his parents, his old girlfriend Kelly, and Gabrielle all died, not to mention the fact that Dom was gone, too, and how much each of those hurt String... _but this is different,_ I said to myself, _'cause String knows that I'm not dead, but I've just walked out of his life, forever. At least, that's what he's thinkin' right now, I'm sure,_ I said to myself as I set the chopper down. _If I know my husband, he's either sitting on the front porch, or out on his favorite spot on the dock, with his cello, playing one of them Prokofiev pieces...the ones that depress me no end,_ I said to myself sadly.

  
  


  
  


“What are we gonna do, Mommy?” Sally Anne demanded.

  
  


  
  


“I—I dunno, Sally Anne,” I said, and knew I meant it. I really didn't know what we were going to do...until I felt my stomach rumble, and realized it was almost lunch time.

  
  


  
  


“You kids hungry?” I asked, knowing the answer immediately.

  
  


  
  


“ _YES!!”_ came the answer from both kids.

  
  


  
  


“I thought so,” I said as I shut the chopper down, then led the kids over to one of our Jeeps. Once I had them buckled in, I headed for Burger King, knowing that was my kids' favorite place to eat. A few minutes later, we sat down to have lunch, and I was overcome with the emotion of what happened—and what _I'd done—_ that morning.

  
  


  
  


“Mommy? Are you okay?” Sally Anne asked me.

  
  


  
  


“I'm—I'm not sure, Sally Anne,” I said. “I'm—I'm just worried about what your daddy's gonna do.”

  
  


  
  


“Well, Mommy,” Saoirse Marie said with a very stern look in her eyes, “maybe you shoulda thought of that before you decided to pull this little joke on Daddy. I said it wasn't very nice, you know...and it wasn't.” That was the first time I'd ever seen her look that upset with me—but I also knew it wouldn't be the last. _She and Sally Anne are gonna be teenagers before I know it—heck, they're already almost eight—and once they become teenagers, they'll be upset with me almost all the time. Especially if..._ I couldn't bear the thought of possibly raising my daughters alone, without my husband by my side. But I knew it was a distinct possibility, considering what I'd done.

  
  


  
  


“I know, Saoirse,” I said, trying to finish my burger and fries. “And you're right.” Just then, I looked up and thought I recognized someone coming towards our table. _Oh, no. Please tell me that isn't--_

  
  


  
  


“Hi, Uncle Saint John!!” Sally Anne said, squashing my hopes. I looked up and saw String's brother standing in front of us holding a tray, which I saw contained his lunch. _Swell,_ I said to myself as I smiled at String's older brother.

  
  


  
  


“Caitlin? What the heck are you doing out here? And, on a Sunday, no less??” Saint John demanded after he set his tray down, and the kids each gave him a hug. Then he noticed the tear streaks down my face. “Is something wrong, Cait? Something with String, maybe?”

  
  


  
  


“Yeah,” I said, even as Saint John pulled up a free chair next to our table so he could eat with us. “I—I did somethin' this morning, Sinj. Somethin' that's got String real mad at me—and I'm not sure what's gonna happen.”

  
  


  
  


“Well,” Saint John said, “why don't we finish our lunch, and then I'll take us all out for ice cream, and you can tell me all about it. Okay?” I could see the expressions on my daughters' faces, and I nodded affirmatively. _Besides, I know my kids can't resist ice cream...and they need somethin' to take their minds off what happened this morning,_ I said to myself. Suddenly, somethin' started bothering me.

  
  


  
  


“How'd you know where to find me, Sinj?” I demanded. “The hangar's closed on Sundays, so I figured you'd be home with Le.”

  
  


  
  


“I was,” Saint John replied, “until I got a phone call from Charlie.” Charlie, I knew, was the weekend security guard out at the airfield. I remembered waving at him as we left to go eat, but I thought he'd recognized me, so I didn't give him a second thought. _Oops,_ I said to myself, realizing what must have happened. _He must've recognized me, and immediately called Saint John. I'm just danged lucky he didn't call String on the CB,_ I said to myself, then realized the only thing String could've done was call Saint John anyway...so unless Sinj had gone to the hangar and then flown up to the cabin to get String, this probably would've happened anyway.

  
  


  
  


“Charlie knows you and String usually stay at the cabin on the weekends, or at least you let him know if you're comin' in. When he saw you leaving the hangar in the Jeep, he called me, thinking I'd know what was going on...which, of course, I don't, and I told him that. As to how I figured out where to find you, I knew it was about lunch time, and that this was my nieces' favorite place to eat when they come out with you and String...so I took a guess, and I was right.” By this time we had all finished our lunches, and left the restaurant to drive over to a Baskin-Robbins that was just a few blocks away. Once we were all there and seated around another table with our ice cream, I started telling Saint John about my class assignment, and the April Fool's prank I'd chosen to play on String.

  
  


  
  


By the time I'd finished, I knew Saint John was wondering the same thing I was— _what the heck is String gonna do when he finds out this was all a joke?_

  
  


  
  


“Cait,” Saint John began, “no offense, but this has got to be the...”

  
  


  
  


“...dumbest thing I've ever done,” I finished for my brother-in-law, and he nodded. “Not to mention, the dumbest idea I've ever had. I won't disagree with you, Sinj...and if I could take it back, I would.”

  
  


  
  


“I know, Cait,” Saint John told me.

  
  


  
  


“Uncle Saint John,” Saoirse Marie said around a mouthful of ice cream, “I told Mommy after we left this mornin' that I didn't think she did a very nice thing...even though I know why she did it. Do you think Daddy's gonna be mad at us?”

  
  


  
  


“I don't know, Saoirse,” Saint John said, and I could tell he was remembering something from the look on his face. “I just don't know.”

  
  


  
  


“What are you thinkin' about, Sinj?” I asked him.

  
  


  
  


“Oh, just remembering another time when you and my kid brother were having...problems,” he replied, and I instantly knew what he was referring to— _the problems with our sex life,_ I said to myself.

  
  


  
  


“But this is different,” I said.

  
  


  
  


“How?” Saint John asked.

  
  


  
  


“Because I”—I stopped myself before I could say, _Because I caused it,_ since I'd caused it the other time, too, and Saint John knew it. I still remember the day he took the kids, so String and I could have some time alone to talk—and when he and the kids came back to the cabin, I remembered hearing him say, _“Saoirse...Sally Anne...this is what is known as_ **bad timing!** _” Which, in all honesty, it was, considering what we were doing...and what I thought String was about to suggest we do, I_ said to myself.

  
  


  
  


“Yeah, Sinj,” I finally said, “you're right. This isn't different—I caused this problem, just like I caused that one. I just—I hope that String can forgive me—someday.”

  
  


  
  


“I hope so, too,” Saint John replied, shaking his head. “Because this time, I don't think I'd be able to help just by taking the kids for a few hours.”

  
  


  
  


Sighing, I raised my hands in a gesture of defeat, and said, “Okay, Sinj, I get it, already. I screwed up.” _I just don't need it shoved in my face like this,_ I said to myself.

  
  


  
  


“Big time,” Saint John replied, shaking his head. I could only imagine what he was thinking as we finished our ice cream and got ready to head our separate ways. Saint John gave Sally Anne and Saoirse Marie both hugs and kisses good-bye, and I said, “Make sure and give Le a hug from his Aunt Cait, Sinj...it might be for the last time.”

  
  


  
  


“I certainly hope not, Cait,” Saint John replied. “No matter what happens between you and String, you'll _always_ be Le's Aunt Cait—you hear me?? _Always.”_ I forced a weak smile at Saint John to let him know I'd heard him. _Heard him, yes. Believe him, that's another story,_ I said to myself.

  
  


  
  


“And I know you heard this before,” Saint John continued, “but—good luck with String...'cause I think you're gonna need it.”

  
  


  
  


“I know, Sinj,” I said, fighting a wave of tears again, and the kids and I said good-bye to Saint John.

  
  


  
  


After saying good-bye to Saint John, and promising to let him know what happened with String, I drove back to the hangar, and Charlie was standing at the gate waiting for us.

  
  


  
  


“Sorry, Mrs. Hawke, about callin' your brother-in-law like that,” he said, shaking his head as we pulled up to the gate. “How come you didn't let me know you were gonna be here today?”

  
  


  
  


“That's a long story, Charlie,” I said. “And, I'll tell you about it...someday.”

  
  


  
  


“Okay, Mrs. Hawke,” Charlie said, smiling. I caught myself before I said, _I hope so_ to him. _I certainly hope I still_ **am** _Mrs. Hawke when this is all over,_ I said to myself.

  
  


  
  


“Come on, kids,” I said as I parked the Jeep and herded them back over to the helicopter. “Your daddy's reaction to my little stunt this morning isn't gonna change no matter how long I stall...so, let's get it over with.” First, though, I needed to refuel the chopper, so I plugged a gas line into the tank and waited for it to automatically shut off. Once I knew the tanks were full, I unplugged the fuel line and put it away, then climbed in and after getting the kids settled and strapped in, I began my preflight sequence and radioed the tower that I was leaving.

  
  


  
  


After getting takeoff clearance, I throttled the helicopter up and headed back into the sky, pointing it towards the cabin. _I haven't thought of it as just “the cabin” for years,_ I said to myself sadly. _It's—been “home” to me for so long—have I already decided it's over, just like that?_ I realized I was still wearing my wedding ring, and I wondered if that might tip String off, but by that point, I was already setting the chopper down on the dock, so I knew it was too late. If he figured out the “joke,” he figured it out, and there wasn't a danged thing I could do about it...except...

  
  


  
  


“Kids,” I said as we got out of the chopper, “why don't you stay out here and play with Eagle for a while?” Eagle, String's hound dog, was a Christmas present from me after Tet had passed away. I remembered telling String that Tet was bugging Dom in Heaven now, even though I know String has a hard time believing in either Heaven, or God, and what I'd done this morning wouldn't change it. But I had a feeling things between me and String were about to get _real ugly,_ and I didn't want our kids to see it. I stalled as long as I could, waiting for the kids to chase Eagle a short distance away from the cabin, but finally, Hawke figured out that I was standing at the door.

  
  


  
  


“Caitlin?” He asked. I was surprised he hadn't called me “Cait,” like he had for so long, but I figured he was angry with me, so I let it go. I wasn't about to debate names, not at a time like this. I inwardly winced when he said, “You forget something...or just decide to come back and kick me while I'm down?” I had to silence the voice that was telling me to wrap my arms around him, kiss him breathless, and tell him it was all a joke—a very bad, very poorly conceived, _joke_. _I can't do that...not yet,_ I said to myself, even though that was exactly what I _wanted_ to do—I still knew I couldn't actually _do it._

  
  


  
  


I told String there was somethin' I needed to say to him...and then proceeded to tell him that there had been a reason I did what I did this morning. He said he needed to know, and asked what went so wrong between us. I said, “Nothing,” even as I thought to myself, _How dense is he??_ Then I realized what a dumb question it was. _Dumb question, Caity girl,_ I said to myself _. I know how dense Stringfellow Hawke is, better'n anybody...except maybe Dom...or Saint John._

  
  


  
  


When I finally sprang my surprise on Hawke, I was more frightened than at any time since I met him—even when Sheriff Bogan and his boys had me cornered in that cell back in Texas, or even when the bomb Sawyer had strapped around me started ticking. I didn't know what Hawke was thinkin', or what he might do about the fact that he'd been played for a complete fool by his wife. _Whatever he does,_ I said to myself, even as I felt my body preparing itself for a fight, _I'm ready._

  
  


  
  


“ _APRIL FOOLS'??”_ Hawke roared at me. _“What in the hell is that supposed to mean??”_ All I could do was hope the kids were far enough away that they couldn't hear their daddy yelling at me. _Not that I don't deserve it,_ I said to myself, _but the kids don't need to see it—or hear it._

  
  


  
  


I went on to try to explain the assignment from Mr. Conrad, laying my hand on String's shoulder—and I was surprised when he accepted it, and didn't draw away from me like I'd figured he would. _Maybe...maybe there's still hope,_ I said to myself, not wanting to read too much into Hawke's actions...but feeling encouraged about what I was seeing...and hearing—or more accurately, _not hearing—_ specifically, String had stopped yelling at me, which I took as a good sign. All the same, though, I couldn't completely silence a nagging voice in my head, that was saying I might have pushed String just a _little too far._ _I certainly hope not,_ I said to myself.

  
  


  
  


I knew String was angry...especially when he asked if I couldn't think of anything else to use as an April Fool's prank, like putting a whoopee cushion on the commander's seat in Airwolf—something I filed away for future reference—even though I know I shouldn't have, 'cause since Hawke brought it up, he'd be expecting it. _Maybe not right away...but someday,_ I said to myself as I thought about what I was gonna say...and finally said that my coach told me...told the whole class, actually, that we had to actually run lines...and I mentioned the time I ran lines with Dom, when I talked about being pregnant and told Dom that I had decided to raise the baby alone...and then, I saw String's face twist into that deer-in-the-headlights look that he gets—the one he gets when he's thinkin' real hard about something—so I knew he was at least thinking about what I'd said, which gave me some hope again.

  
  


  
  


“Believe me, String,” I said, “I didn't want to do it, and I told my coach just that last week in class, but he said we needed to make it somethin' that whoever we played it on would never forget—and I think this qualifies, don't you??”

  
  


  
  


String reluctantly agreed with me, and I had to wonder what he was thinking at that point. I knew what _I_ wanted, of course—I wanted to give him my best impish grin, and have him take me upstairs and make love to me—but I knew I couldn't...and more importantly, String _wouldn't._ At least—not yet.

  
  


  
  


“Yeah, Cait,” String said to me—and I think I already felt his anger lessening—and I wasn't sure how to take that. I know String—when he gets angry like this, he wants to hold onto that anger for as long as possible, and make whomever he's angry at—in this case, _me_ —feel as badly as he does. And, quite honestly, I deserved it. _I probably deserve a lot worse,_ I said to myself. I didn't think String would do anything to me _physically—_ and even if he did, I'm more than capable of defending myself—but emotionally, I had prepared myself for anything, from being told _“Get the hell out of here, and don't come back”_ to seeing Hawke withdraw completely back within himself, like he started to do when we had those other personal problems a while back—and to be perfectly honest, I don't know which would be worse. I mean, even with all the frightening situations I've been in, nothing, not even being tied to a chair with a time bomb strapped to my chest, like happened after Sawyer kidnapped me—had me as frightened as I was at that moment.

  
  


  
  


Then String proceeded to tell me, “I'd have to say this definitely qualifies. You—you scared me, Caitlin. You had me convinced you were really going to leave.”

  
  


  
  


I found myself relaxing—a _little—_ at my husband's words, and I knew I had no right to ask him for his help with my project, but I also knew that I _needed_ to—so I asked him if he would mind writing down his opinions of my presentation, and handed him the paper with the lines I'd delivered earlier that morning. Near the bottom was a single word— _Reactions:_

  
  


  
  


Hawke correctly guessed that was for him, taking a pen from his shirt pocket and sitting down at the kitchen table to write his reactions down. I couldn't help myself—I walked over to his chair and wrapped my arms around him from behind as I read what he'd written—“ _If the object of this exercise was to scare me half to death, Caitlin Hawke passed with flying colors. When she said she was leaving this morning, and taking our kids with her, I fell for it hook, line and sinker, and I thought my world was coming to an end. Caitlin definitely succeeded in fooling me—she played the part perfectly. Sincerely, Stringfellow Hawke.”_

  
  


  
  


“That good enough?” Hawke asked and turned his head towards me.

  
  


  
  


“That's perfect,” I said, and smiled at him. “Thanks, String.” I released his shoulders and took the paper from him, putting it into a folder on the other side of the table—and that's when I noticed String looking around like he'd lost something. Finally, he said, “Where are the kids, Cait?”

  
  


  
  


“Outside,” I told him, “playing with Eagle.” I went on to explain that I decided I didn't want the kids coming in with me, in case things got ugly between String and me. He thought about it for a minute, then agreed with my decision. _I don't want the kids to ever see us seriously fight,_ I said to myself, recalling their reactions when we had our problems before, _so that's why I did it._ I quickly moved to the door and called out, “Come on in, kids!!”

  
  


  
  


Just like that, Saoirse Marie and Sally Anne charged towards the door, almost knocking String and me off our feet in their enthusiasm. As I heard them call out, “Hi, Daddy!!,” I stood and watched as String wrapped his arms around our children, and silently vowed that I would _never_ play another joke like this on him, ever again.

  
  


  
  


“Daddy,” Saoirse began hesitantly, “we—we're real sorry about this morning. Mommy told Sally Anne and me that it was somethin' important. I—I wanted to tell you we weren't really gonna leave, Daddy, but Mommy told us not to.”

  
  


  
  


“I—I know, kids,” String replied, holding his daughters close to him. “I know,” Hawke said, pulling back to look at our kids, then looking back over his shoulder at me behind him, and apologized for yelling at me this morning. Silently, I thanked him with my eyes, not wanting to disturb the moment.

  
  


  
  


“Now,” I finally said, smiling at our children and my husband, “I think it's time you two go and get ready for dinner. Okay?”

  
  


  
  


“Okay!” Sally Anne shouted as she and her sister scampered down the hall to their rooms. Dinner was spent discussing Hawke's reaction to what had occurred that morning, and before long, even String had been able to see the humor in the situation—something that was not lost on either me or the kids—especially after Sally Anne said, “Daddy, your eyes were _THIS BIG!!”_ She held her hands over her eyes in the shape of two large circles, and all of us—including String, to my immense relief, started to laugh.

  
  


  
  


“I just bet they were, Sally Anne,” String said with a smile. “I was pretty scared this morning, you know.”

  
  


  
  


“We know, Daddy,” Sally Anne replied.

  
  


  
  


“Face it, String, you fell for it—hook, line, and sinker!!” I told String later as we did the dishes—together. I grinned wickedly and splashed a little of the water on his shirt. I had started the dishes alone, figuring it was another way of apologizing to String over the whole April Fool's prank, and how much I knew I'd hurt and frightened him, but String had quickly stepped in to help me—and despite my best arguments, he wouldn't take “No” for an answer.

  
  


  
  


“Yeah, I did,” String admitted, shaking his head as he returned the favor, splashing some of the water onto my shirt, which caused me to smile at him. “You were very convincing, Cait—your coach would have been very impressed. Even though you've been away from those classes for so long, you've still got it, Cait...whatever the hell 'it' is. You got me, Cait—you got me _good_ ,” String admitted.

  
  


  
  


“Thanks, String,” I replied honestly, swallowing my surprise when I heard String say 'you've still got it, Cait...whatever the hell 'it' is.' _Typical String,_ I said to myself. “I—I really hated to do that...you—you know that, right?” I laid the dishes aside and moved over to String, and slipped my arms around his neck. I hoped my eyes and my voice would convey my feelings about the whole incident to my husband, and that we'd be able to move past it.

  
  


  
  


“I know now, Cait,” String replied, sliding his arms around my waist and pulling me close to him. “I know now,” he murmured again, in that throaty tone that he knows I love, just before he took my lips with his. The kiss began gently, but it didn't take long for the passion to begin to build, until Saoirse Marie's voice rang in our ears and broke the mood. “ _Eww._ Don't look, Sally Anne—'cause they're _kissing!!”_

  
  


  
  


“Guess that means Mommy and Daddy aren't mad at each other anymore, huh?” Sally Anne giggled, as String separated us, and we each grabbed one of our kids, causing them both to laugh. I couldn't help but remember again how Saint John and the kids walked into the cabin and found String and me necking like a couple of lovestruck teenagers—until we heard Saint John's voice at the front door... _“Saoirse Marie...Sally Anne...this is what is known as_ **bad timing!!** _”_ Which, in all honesty, it _was._ And just like that day, we couldn't resist the laughter of our children—String and I both joined in, until finally String said something.

  
  


  
  


“No, kids, Mommy's not mad at Daddy,” String assured their children. “And Mommy never _was_ mad at Daddy—so even though I yelled this morning, Daddy's not mad at Mommy. Nobody's mad, and nobody's goin' anywhere. Okay?”

  
  


  
  


“Okay, Daddy!” Both girls squealed happily. I sighed inwardly with relief, thinking that maybe— _just maybe—_ we were moving past the morning's incident and getting on with our lives. _At least he hasn't thrown me out,_ I remembered saying to myself as we finished the dishes and put the kids to bed. _That's gotta count for something._

  
  


  
  


All the same, as we went upstairs to our sleeping loft, I wanted to know that everything was all right between String and me. The kiss downstairs and Hawke's reactions had told me a lot—but any judge or lawyer I've ever met would probably say they were circumstantial evidence, at best—and I needed more. I needed my _husband,_ dammit. I put on my best come-hither expression and walked over to String, but he gently grabbed onto my hands just as I was about to slide my arms around his shoulders, and try to start something. And the look on his face got me worried again.

  
  


  
  


“Cait,” String said, and I was relieved that he'd gone back to the shortened form of my name that he'd used so often since we've been married, “I know I said I wasn't mad at you—and, I'm not—but, before we go any further, I just need to hear five words from you.”

  
  


  
  


“Um...” I said, trying to think where I'd heard this before—maybe in a movie or somethin'—and, to be quite honest, I wasn't exactly sure which words he meant.

  
  


  
  


“I'll—never—do—this—again,” String said, gazing deep into my eyes. I hesitated, then, gazed just as deeply into his eyes as I responded to him, after I felt him let go of my hands.

  
  


  
  


“I'll—never—leave—you—String,” I murmured in response, holding his face in my hands to force him to look me in the eyes. Okay, it wasn't what he said, but I _meant_ the same thing—and if he really needed me to say those exact words, then I would.

  
  


  
  


“That _wasn't_ what I said, Caitlin,” String replied, and I have to admit his tone of voice, and the look in his eyes both made me nervous—until I saw him curl one side of his lip into that boyish grin of his, the one that makes my heart flip every time I see it—and said, “But, I'll take it.”

  
  


  
  


Finally feeling myself relax, I slipped my arms around his neck and, with my best and most seductively impish grin, I replied, “And—me? What about me, String?” I felt his arms slide around my waist, and held my breath as I waited for his answer.

  
  


  
  


“If that's what you want, Cait,” he replied with a smile, before he swept me off my feet and laid me down on our bed. As soon as I felt my back hit the mattress, however, I pulled String down to me and smothered his lips with mine in a passionate kiss.

  
  


  
  


When I let us both come up for air, I said, “I want _you_ , Stringfellow Hawke. Always, and forever— _you._ I'll never get tired of you, Stringfellow Hawke. _Never._ I'll never leave you...and I love you, String.”

  
  


  
  


“That's good to know, Cait,” Hawke said as he helped me to sit up, then added, “Because I love you, too—and I'll never get tired of you, either. So like it or not, you're stuck with me—because I'll never leave you, either, Cait,” he said, grinning.

  
  


  
  


“H mm...I'm stuck with you, huh?” I asked as I moved closer to my husband. “I love the sound of that—and I love you, Stringfellow Hawke,” I said, leaning my forehead against Hawke's and smiling at him, relieved when he returned my smile with one of his own. “So I guess you're stuck with me, too.”

  
  


  
  


“Well, I can't think of any person I'd rather be stuck with, Caitlin Hawke,” Hawke said, earning a playful elbow in the ribs from me. I was all ready to admonish him—playfully, of course—but I saw his expression turn serious again, and I decided to listen to whatever my husband wanted to say to me.

  
  


  
  


“Cait—I'm sorry I yelled at you like that this morning,” String admitted. “I was just—so angry...and so hurt—and most of all, scared. I really thought you were”—I heard his voice crack...one of the few times I've ever heard Stringfellow Hawke get that emotional, to the point where I thought he was going to cry—but I knew what he was trying to say.

  
  


  
  


“I know, String,” I replied. “And I'm really sorry I did this—I never... _never_ meant to scare you like that.” I found myself recalling his reaction when he had recognized me at the front door earlier in the evening. _The last time I saw his face like that was at the Horn compound, when he thought he'd killed Dom. And I don't ever want to see his face like that again._ _ **EVER**_ _._ “And I'll _never...EVER_ do that again, String. I—I hope you believe that,” I said, even as I thought to myself, _but I won't blame you if you don't believe me._

  
  


  
  


“I know, Cait,” Hawke answered me. “I know.” Then he added, “And I—I believe you, Cait.” I know he had to have seen my eyes light up at his words, and I figured he knew what I had on my mind. So, I decided to ask him something that had been bothering me ever since we came upstairs.

  
  


  
  


“String? You mind if I ask a really stupid question?”

  
  


  
  


“Go ahead.”

  
  


  
  


“Why are we still dressed?”

  
  


  
  


“Good point,” String replied with a laugh as he moved to remedy the situation, and I reached out to him, my own intentions shining in my eyes. Finally, I looked into the eyes of the man I loved, the father of my kids, and the man I promised to spend the rest of my life with, and shyly whispered, “String, please...make love to me.”

  
  


  
  


I saw String smile as he leaned into me, gently rotating us to put me on my back, and that's when I saw tears come into his eyes, and I kicked myself again for the whole prank. _I never shoulda done that,_ I said to myself, seeing String's eyes darken with emotion. Finally, he whispered, “Caitlin, don't ever... _ever_...doubt that you have the right to ask me to make love to you.” I knew I couldn't say anything, 'cause I felt a lump the size of a baseball in my throat...I knew it was just my emotions comin' to the surface, like String's had, so I simply nodded and pulled him closer to me as he moved inside me.

  
  


  
  


Later, still wrapped in each other's arms, I thought about what had happened that morning, along with what we had just done. Normally I take a more...active role in our sex life, but tonight, I surrendered myself completely to my husband. I figured it was something else I could do, to show Hawke just how much I loved him, to let him do with me whatever he wished. When it was over, I simply relaxed in the afterglow of some of the most passionate and wonderful sex I had ever experienced, until suddenly, four words penetrated the fog that was surrounding my brain—“ _give up flying Airwolf?”_

  
  


  
  


“ _WHAT?”_ I demanded, suddenly sitting up, my mind snapped back to full alertness by the last part of my husband's question—“ _give up flying Airwolf?”_ “You—you'd do that—you'd give up flying Airwolf, for me?” I couldn't believe he'd actually consider giving up flying the Lady— _especially without talking it over with me first,_ I said to myself. _And if Dom were here, he'd say the same thing._

  
  


  
  


“I was saying that...I know, now, that what you did this morning was for class—but yes, I'd give up Airwolf—for _us,_ Cait,” String replied honestly. “Look, you said it this morning—there comes a time when we've gotta think about the kids. I know what it's like growing up without parents, and I—I don't want them to lose either one of us.”

  
  


  
  


_So he was listening to me this morning,_ I said to myself, remembering that I'd told him that before I left. _“But that's my whole point—do you want these kids—our kids—growing up without one—or, God forbid—both of us, if somethin' ever happened on a mission?”_ I had said. I know Airwolf's not completely invulnerable—String's been shot down in her a couple of times, and nearly crashed at least one other that I can think of—but flyin' in her still ranks as less dangerous than the drive I made to the hangar every morning before String and I got married, through rush hour traffic. When I said that this morning, I thought String was so angry that he wasn't registering what I was saying to him—but, I was wrong.

  
  


  
  


“String,” I said, letting my fingertips glide across his chest, “We're safer in Airwolf than just about anyplace else I know. Our Lady's never let us down yet, has she?” I turned my impish grin back on my husband again.

  
  


  
  


String sighed resignedly. “No, she hasn't, Cait. But what if”— String was suddenly cut off when I kissed him again, pressing my body against his for as long as possible. Much to my displeasure, though, String separated us before we lost ourselves in our feelings again, and said, “Okay, Cait, you made your point. I won't turn Airwolf over to Michael. Okay?”

  
  


  
  


“Okay, String,” I replied, then continued, “Besides, I woulda been real mad if you had given the Lady up. I told you this morning—I love flyin' her just as much as you do.” Just like that, a crazy thought ran through my mind, and I know my face reflected what I was thinking. _Aw, no. He didn't....did he??_ “Um...String...when you said you'd give up Airwolf”—I stopped myself before I could voice the question that had just crossed my mind. _It'd be just like String to say somethin' like that and be pulling an April Fool's joke on me...and I'd deserve it, too. I probably deserve a lot worse, actually, after what I did, makin' him think I didn't love him anymore, and all that._

  
  


  
  


“No, Cait,” String replied, knowing what I was asking him, “that wasn't an April Fool's prank. I meant what I said—if you wanted me to, I'd give Airwolf up. Besides, there's no reason for us to keep flyin' her, since Saint John's home and the deal no longer applies. Not to mention the fact that—while you were gone today, I had some time to think about something Michael asked me several years ago.”

  
  


  
  


“What was that, String?” I asked.

  
  


  
  


“It was after Dr. Winchester developed that simulator,” Hawke said, “and Michael was trying to get me to sign off on it. I remember he asked me, 'What happens ten years from now, when your flying skills begin to erode?'” He shook his head and then turned to me. “Well....what _does_ happen? I mean...it's been over ten years since Michael asked me that, and I don't want to get one...or _both_ of us...killed because my flying skills aren't what they used to be.”

  
  


  
  


“Forget it, String,” I insisted. “You're—I mean, _we're_ not giving Airwolf up. Besides,” I said, “as far as I'm concerned, your flying skills are still top-notch. I wouldn't keep flying with you if I didn't trust you with my life, just like you trust me with yours.” And I meant it, too—every time I've flown in Airwolf, String's flying skills have always amazed me—especially that he's been able to keep them up so well, even as he's gotten...well... _older._ “So—now that that's settled, I'll say it again—we _are not_ turning Airwolf over to the FIRM. You understand me??” I hoped String could see the sparkle of laughter in my eyes, in spite of the glacial tone my voice had taken. _Even at my worst this morning, I didn't sound that cold,_ I said to myself.

  
  


  
  


“Yes, dear,” String replied, shaking his head.

  
  


  
  


“Good,” I replied, grinning impishly at him. “I'm glad we understand each other.” I sighed with a combination of satisfaction and relief at String's smile as I sank back into his arms and laid my head against his chest.

  
  


  
  


“Besides,” String said, “Even if we gave her up, I'd probably still have to help Michael train a new pilot—and you'd be training a new backseater, and the FIRM doesn't have that simulator anymore, so”—I was really getting tired of talking, so I cut him off the best way I knew how, with a deep and passionate kiss.

  
  


  
  


“String,” I said breathily after I let him go, “I thought we understood each other—that we're not giving up Airwolf.”

  
  


  
  


“Okay, Cait,” Hawke replied, but his expression suddenly shifted, and I thought I could read what he was thinking by the look in his eyes. _He's thinkin' about this morning. And hoping I never do that again...and I won't,_ I said to myself.

  
  


  
  


“Don't worry, String. I said it before and I'll say it again—I'll _never_ play another April Fool's joke like that on you again. I _promise._ ” By the look that suddenly came into his eyes, I knew he'd considered what I'd said, and the expression in my eyes, and decided that he believed me, which made me just that much happier. “Now,” I continued, my eyes taking on a decidedly mischievous gleam as I slipped my arms around String and rolled myself beneath him again, “I don't want to talk about Airwolf—or this morning, or anything else—tonight. Okay?” I knew the impish grin I wore spoke volumes to my husband.

  
  


  
  


“Okay, Caitlin,” Hawke replied, curling his lip into the boyish grin he reserved for me, as he moved inside me once again, “No more talking.”

  
  


  
  


That Friday, I turned my paper in to Mr. Conrad, who read it over and commented, “Well, Mrs. Hawke”—but just like that, he stopped, and asked, “You _are_ still married, I take it??”

  
  


  
  


“Yes, Mr. Conrad,” I said. “It was touch and go for a bit, just like I figured would happen, but String finally saw the humor in what I did. I—I just hope I don't have to ever do that again.”

  
  


  
  


“I'll keep that in mind, Mrs. Hawke,” Mr. Conrad told me, then told the class that our grades for the assignment would be available in a week's time.

  
  


  
  


When we were back home, after Hawke picked me up from class that day, I had something that I had to ask him. “String,” I said, anxiously, “how come you forgave me so quick? I...I figured you'd be mad at me for at least a week after that little stunt of mine. Not that I don't appreciate your forgiving me so quick...I'm just...confused.”

  
  


  
  


String just smiled at me and said, “Cait...once I'd calmed down and thought— _really_ thought—about what you did, I realized it'd be stupid for me to stay angry at you. Besides,” he said, “we promised each other when we got married that no matter what, we'd never go to bed angry, didn't we?”

  
  


  
  


I smiled as I remembered him saying that to me the day we got married. “Yeah,” I said, looking up at him and remembering what made me fall in love with Stringfellow Hawke in the first place—besides his good looks, that is. And, I thought back to somethin' Dom said to String and me before our wedding day—“ _Never go to bed angry. Resolve your problems, before they start.”_ Well, we may not have resolved this problem before it started, but we were able to resolve it before it became anything big.

  
  


  
  


“Not to mention the fact that Dom always taught me and Sinj never to hold grudges—against _anyone,_ especially people we love,” String said, and I remembered Dom saying that to me, too. “So it was a lot easier than I thought it would be for me to forgive what you did,” String finished, and pulled me close to him. I relaxed in his arms, wondering yet again just what I'd done to deserve this man—and thanking God for whatever it was.

  
  


  
  


Then String surprised me when he acknowledged that meeting me was the best thing that ever happened to him...even though it did take him two years to realize it. _Well,_ I said to myself, _you always were a stubborn one. Even Dom said so._ Not surprisingly, I felt my eyes fill with tears as I looked up at him and said, “Thanks, String. I needed to hear that,” just before I pulled his head down to mine for a deep and passionate kiss.

  
  


  
  


**One Week Later...**

  
  


  
  


I stood waiting for String outside the building where my acting class was, holding the results of the previous week's assignment in my hand. I felt an enormous sense of pride at what Mr. Conrad had told me during class.

  
  


  
  


“ _Congratulations, Mrs. Hawke,” Mr. Conrad had said, and I noticed he put a special emphasis on my name, “you received the highest grade in the class, based on your husband's response to this assignment. I almost wish I could have been there to see your husband's face when you and your children told him you were leaving.” I shook my head and smiled at my acting coach._

  
  


  
  


“ _No, Mr. Conrad,” I said, “you don't. Take my word for it, it was not a pleasant experience—and, one that I don't plan on repeating any time soon.”_

  
  


  
  


“ _I got that impression last week...and, I'm glad to hear it,” Mr. Conrad told me._

  
  


  
  


Finally, I heard the Jeep coming, and I waved as I saw my husband. He quickly stopped the Jeep and got out, walking over and giving me a deep and loving kiss before we walked back to the Jeep and String opened the passenger side door for me. A short time later, we were headed back to the hangar. We talked a little about other things, but eventually, just before we got back to the hangar, String asked how class went.

  
  


  
  


“Did you get your grade on that...assignment, Caitlin?” String asked me as we approached the hangar.

  
  


  
  


“See for yourself, String,” I said as String parked the Santini Air jeep. I handed him the same paper he saw last week, only now with a large red “A+” circled at the top.

  
  


  
  


“Congratulations, Cait,” String said with a smile, leaning over to kiss me. “That makes everything worth it—wouldn't you say??”

  
  


  
  


“Yeah, String,” I said as we got out of the Jeep and walked arm-in-arm to meet Saint John, who'd been watching the kids while I went to class. He smiled at us and said, “Guess you got a good grade, huh, Cait?”

  
  


  
  


“Top of the class,” I replied, absolutely beaming. “My coach said he wished he could've seen the look on String's face when I told him I was leaving.”

  
  


  
  


“Heck, Caitlin, _I_ wish I could've seen String's face when you said that,” Saint John said with a laugh as he hugged me, then String. “H mm...on second thought, maybe I don't. I'd guess String was pretty angry that day.”

  
  


  
  


“And you'd guess _right,_ ” String said. “Although when the helicopter left, I was more sad than anything—but when she came back that afternoon, I was angry.”

  
  


  
  


“Well, it's over now,” Saint John said, smiling. “I just hope there aren't going to be any more assignments like that in your future, Cait.”

  
  


  
  


Looking at my husband, I said, “I hope so, too, Sinj. I mentioned it to him today, and I'm going to be having a talk with my acting coach about that next week, 'cause that is _not_ something I want to go through again.” We said our good-byes to Saint John, then rounded up our children to head home.

  
  


  
  


When we arrived back at the cabin, String set about making dinner while I went to see what the kids were doing, and told them to get ready for dinner. When I came back, I noticed the aroma of steaks grilling outside.

  
  


  
  


“What's the deal, String?” I asked, surprised. “You only do this when it's my birthday...or after we've fought about something.”

  
  


  
  


“Consider this congratulations, Cait,” String said with a smile. “Congratulations on being top of the class on your assignment.”

  
  


  
  


“Gee, thanks, String,” I said, blushing.

  
  


  
  


“And,” String said with a familiar grin, “there'll be a— _special_ reward later.” His tone of voice when he said “ _special,”_ coupled with the look in his eyes, left little to my imagination as to what he had in mind for the “special” reward...and I felt my body preparing itself for the activity, even though I knew it was still a few hours away.

  
  


  
  


“M mm,” I said as I moved closer to him, “I'm _definitely_ lookin' forward to that.” I wrapped my arms around String's neck and pulled him down for a deep and loving kiss.

  
  


  
  


“I kinda thought you would,” String said after I'd released him.

  
  


  
  


The kids noticed what String had done when we all sat down to dinner, and String said, “Kids, your mommy has some good news.”

  
  


  
  


“Well, girls,” I said, smiling, “I was graded top of my class on my assignment from last week.”

  
  


  
  


“Yay!!” Sally Anne and Saoirse Marie both shouted, clapping their hands for me. “Congratulations, Mommy!!” they both shouted, before they jumped out of their chairs and ran over to give me hugs—but, somethin' in Saoirse's expression bugged me, and she didn't waste any time telling me what she meant.

  
  


  
  


“Mommy, promise me and Sally Anne somethin',” Saoirse Marie said.

  
  


  
  


“Oh—kay,” I said, not exactly sure what my daughters were asking me for. _I hope it's nothing too serious,_ I said to myself.

  
  


  
  


“Promise us that you'll never play a joke on Daddy like you did last Sunday, ever again!” Saoirse demanded.

  
  


  
  


“I promise,” I replied, smiling at both my kids. “In fact,” I continued as I linked pinky fingers with both my daughters, “I'll pinky-swear it. I'll never play a joke like that on Daddy... _ever again._ ”

  
  


  
  


“Wow,” Saoirse said, and her eyes grew wide. “You _pinky-swore..._ you must _really mean it!_ ”

  
  


  
  


“Yeah, Saoirse,” I said as I kissed both my daughters, “I really mean it. No more scaring Daddy...or you two...ever again.”

  
  


  
  


“Good!” Saoirse Marie stated emphatically as she and Sally Anne both kissed me again. I had to quickly swallow the lump in my throat as I realized that even after what happened, my kids...and String...all still loved me.

  
  


  
  


That night, we once again told the kids the story of how we met and fell in love—we hadn't told that story for a while—several months, as a matter of fact—but String thought it would be a good idea to tell it tonight, given the circumstances, and the children didn't seem to mind.

  
  


  
  


“Well, String,” I said as we headed upstairs for the evening, “I dunno about you, but I'm glad this whole mess is over—that we're still together, and that you still love me. I have to confess something, String—I was worried sick about comin' back the other day...I thought you might throw me out for real, after what I did—that you—you didn't love me anymore.” Hawke saw the tears welling up in my eyes and quickly embraced me.

  
  


  
  


“Cait,” String murmured, “you know I'll never stop loving you.” He locked eyes with me and repeated, “Never. I will always love you, Caitlin. In fact,” String said with a smile, “I'll pinky-swear it.” He linked his pinky finger with mine, which brought a smile to my face.

  
  


  
  


“Wow!” I exclaimed, “You _pinky-swore..._ you must _really mean it!!”_ I knew by the smile that he wore that String was remembering what Saoirse Marie had said during dinner, and without any more hesitation, String pulled me closer to him and kissed me again, pouring every ounce of love he had for me into it. I quickly returned his emotions with just as much passion, until String separated us and said, “Yeah, Cait—I _really mean it._ I will always love you.”

  
  


  
  


“And I'll always love you, String,” I said as I relaxed in String's warm embrace, finally allowing myself to believe that this latest strain on our marriage was over.

  
  


  
  


“But I can understand why you might have felt the way you did,” String said, “and I apologize again for the way I yelled at you...and at the kids.”

  
  


  
  


“Thank you, String,” I said, relieved. “But, just so you know—I don't blame you for bein' angry with me.”

  
  


  
  


“I know, Cait,” String replied. “I know.” He pulled me to him and kissed me again, even more passionately than before.

  
  


  
  


Finally, String said, “Now then—I believe I promised you a... _special_ reward tonight, didn't I?” I grinned and batted my eyes flirtatiously at him as his hands moved to the buttons on my blouse.

  
  


  
  


“Why yes, String,” I said in my most alluring Southern drawl, my eyes darkening with the feelings I felt rushing through me as I moved closer to my husband, “I believe you did.”


End file.
